


Adjust As Needed

by viklikesfic (v_angelique)



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: BAMF Q, Disability, Dom/sub, Finger Sucking, M/M, Multiple Sclerosis, Physical Disability, Spoons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 16:31:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13170795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/v_angelique/pseuds/viklikesfic
Summary: This was part of a pile of 00Q disability-and-kink fics I just found randomly sitting in my Google Drive. Enjoy a Q that is both badass and realistic about his energy needs.CW: Brief unsolicited groping by an intoxicated stranger.





	Adjust As Needed

All things considered, Q was lucky. His primary symptoms were muscle weakness in the legs, occasional balance issues, and relatively mild fatigue. He hadn't yet experienced any of the common vision issues or any cognitive impairments that could make his work difficult. He spent enough of the day in a chair that for the most part, his colleagues didn't even notice. But sometimes, luck notwithstanding, MS was a bitch.

James, for his part, was remarkably understanding about Q's preference for staying in whenever they had a rare free evening together. But Q missed his early 20s, going out dancing, feeling sexy. He wasn't about to try to dance, but he could take his boyfriend to a club, goddamnit, and enjoy himself. In tight black jeans, royal blue shirt half buttoned, and a black blazer, leaning slightly on a sleek black cane with chrome accents, Q thought he looked pretty good, and James' wandering hands seemed to confirm the opinion.

In fact, Q was just about to start lazily making out with Bond up against the bar when a hand squeezed his arse. Both of James' hands being present and accounted for, Q turned towards the perpetrator with an offended look.

"Excuse you!"

The young man just grinned, not looking particularly repentant. He was clearly not on his first drink. "Sorry. Couldn't help myself."

"Yes, I'm quite sure you  _ could _ ," Q argued primly. The man was fairly well-built, a few inches taller than the pair of them, with short ginger hair and a bit of beard stubble. His leather jacket was well-worn, and his hands rough. One of said hands boldly reached in again and cupped at Q's crotch, the man's eyebrow raising.

"Oops."

Q felt Bond tense behind him, but before the agent could get around him to react, Q took advantage of a momentary break in the crowd to his left and swung his cane sharply, aiming just above the knee. 

"Ow, mother _ fucker _ !" Q's victim shrieked. The swing had taken a lot out of him, but oh was it worth it to see the look on Bond's face.

\----

"I am signing that wanker up for every adult incontinence mailing list  _ ever _ . And every time he opens his inbox, there will be cats," Q griped as they walked into Bond's apartment, having reluctantly admitted defeat at the club. " _ Singing  _ cats." His arm was sore, he didn't have the spoons to feel sexy anymore, and he was very grumpy about having date night interrupted. Bond just smirked.

"You should have let me shoot him."

Q rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah." Sighing, he gave the sofa a hopeful look. "You weren't planning on energetic sex tonight, were you? Sorry," he added, pouting just a little.

"Not your fault. It doesn't have to be energetic. How are you feeling?"

"Meh," Q replied, nuzzling into his neck. "I really wanted to, but... tired."

Bond brushed a kiss over his mouth and quirked a smile. "Need a fuller sit rep than that."

Q rolled his eyes fondly. "Low energy. Sore arm. Wonky legs. Balance... is okay," he assessed, checking in with himself. "Dick uncooperative."

"Legs in pain or just weak?" Bond's lips ghosted his neck, his ear, and Q felt a pleasant flutter in his chest if not below.

"Just weak. In fact, I really need to sit now."

Bond nodded, taking his arm. "Can you kneel comfortably?"

"Oh," Q responded softly. " _ Yes. _ " They didn't do this always, or even often, but it was something that calmed Q when he had the rare chance to sleep in with Bond and come out of subspace gradually in the morning.

"Yes, please?" Bond prompted teasingly, walking Q in front of the sofa and tossing cushions down, first leaning Q's cane against the armchair and then helping him down to his knees.

"The please was implied," Q smirked, rolling his neck and settling back on his heels as Bond sat. "Sir."

"Correct answer," Bond smiled, bending forward and taking Q's face in his hands. His thumbs stroked Q's clean-shaven jaw and his cheeks until Q's eyes dropped instinctively and he was rewarded with a kiss. Though everyone and their secretary knew about Bond's legendary sex drive, Q liked being one of the few who really understood what a sensualist the man was. Q wouldn't have put focus on touch and sensation very high on the list of traits he wanted in a partner, before Bond, but now it was something he appreciated more than he could really express. When Bond broke the kiss with a tug of teeth to Q's lower lip, he turned and nuzzled into Bond's palm, glad he could give his lover some subtle pleasures even when his body had its limitations.

Sometimes, he wished he could do more little things around the flat to show his appreciation. When his submissive side came out on a good body day, Q would make Bond breakfast and coffee, serve him on his knees, even. Tomorrow, that wouldn’t be happening, but he tried to apply the same mindset as he tasted the sweat from Bond’s palm, slowly licking up the first finger with his eyes flickering up seductively.

“Ah, there we are,” Bond nearly purred, his other hand coming to cup the back of Q’s neck. Q hummed and closed his eyes, falling into it as Bond held him steady, feeding Q each of his fingers one by one to lick and suck. It wasn’t long before he was feeling uncomfortably warm and reached for the buttons of his blazer, peeling it and his shirt off without pausing in his task. 

"Take your time," Bond ordered, lightly massaging the tendons in Q's neck as Q's teeth scraped along the length of a finger. "I like that."

Q hummed agreement and made himself spend more time on each digit than felt reasonable, subverting his own instincts to focus on Bond's desires. Unlike Q most days, Bond could be  _ incredibly  _ patient. When he finished the fingers, Q reigned himself in again and pushed his tongue between them, nuzzling the palm again and stroking the inside of Bond's wrist with his lips. A touch of teeth against the vein earned him a pleased hiss and when he looked up Bond's eyes were closed, his head leaning back against the cushion and his shoulders relaxed. Q challenged himself to close his own eyes and lose time, rubbing against Bond's hand with this mouth and his cheek. When Bond's hands switched, the damp one coming to clutch a little firmer at Q's neck, Q kept his eyes closed, lips parting submissively.

Eventually, the hand at Q's mouth dropped to his throat, and Q's eyes blinked open in surprise. James held his throat gently, but with the extent of his control evident in his gaze. "You'll give me your mouth, now," he declared, and the aroused roughness of his voice led Q to give a mental cheer as his lips were thoroughly claimed.


End file.
